


Reality in his Kiss

by waterbird13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Rimming, post Sam getting his soul back, previously established relationship, season six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's soul is back in his body, and Sam is disoriented, knowing that a large segment of his life is missing and that he's not allowed to look for it. Cas does what he can to ground Sam and make him feel good once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality in his Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all.   
> So, this is my first full-length Sastiel fic, and I'm very excited by this. Idea for this fic goes to Kirby--thanks so much.  
> Warnings/enticements: Explicit sex between a human and an angel. Season six fic. Rimming. Previously established relationship. I think that's all.  
> I hope you enjoy!

            They haven’t gotten much in the way of alone time, which is understandable. Dean and Bobby have wanted their time with Sam, wanting to marvel at having _Sam_ with them, wanting to marvel over the fact that Sam once again has emotions and all of the things that have been missing for so long.

            Cas knows right away that Sam, his Sam, is back, although how long that wall will hold out is questionable. And as against bringing Sam back as he was, he’s so, so relieved to have Sam with him once more. It’s worked out better than he could’ve hoped. Sam is there, Sam is whole and seemingly unhurt, but it’s all temporary, something allowed by an incredibly flimsy wall. He’s more than aware that he and Sam are on borrowed time, but, really, they’ve always been on borrowed time, and Cas will take what he can get.

            Finally, they leave Sam alone when he says he’s tired, letting him go up to the guest room he uses so often. Cas makes an excuse to leave Bobby and Dean. He says heaven needs him and it’s not a lie, because heaven _does_ need him, but Sam needs him more right then. So he disappears from Bobby’s living room only to appear in Sam’s room upstairs.

            Sam is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring morosely at the wall, hands gripping each other tightly between his spread thighs. Sam doesn’t acknowledge Cas’ presence, and fear grips the angel.

            “Are you…remembering?” he asks hesitantly, trying to conceal his panic, because if Sam’s wall has already fallen, already fallen after mere hours, if they put Sam through so much pain and risked so much only to let him fall to his fractured mind after only a few hours…

            Selfishly, Cas thinks it was worth it, worth it to even see Sam like this, like _Sam,_ one last time. But it really is the most selfish thought Cas has ever had, because if they brought Sam back just to let him descend into pain and fractured madness, just for his own selfish pleasure of seeing the Sam he loves again…

            Sam interrupts Cas’ thoughts. “No,” he says, and he sounds frustrated. “That’s just it. Nothing. Nothing between the cemetery and the panic room. That’s a year and a half of my life, Cas. Just _gone_.”

            “It’s hundreds of years of torture in the cage,” Cas corrects as sternly as he can. “There’s nothing for you to remember, Sam. Don’t push,” he warns.

            Sam doesn’t look up. “What happened when I…when I had no soul?” he asks quietly.

            Cas considers the question. They are not supposed to tell Sam, not supposed to give him any hints or anything that may make him push at the wall, accidently or on purpose. But Sam has asked, so Cas looks for an answer. “ _You_ didn’t do anything,” he finally settles on, hoping Sam will drop the line of questioning. Of course he doesn’t.

            Sam’s head hangs farther. “You all keep saying that,” he says. “You wouldn’t say that unless I did something bad. Cas, did I—did I hurt people?” He makes a bitter face. “I know I hurt people. How—how many?”

            “It wasn’t you,” Cas repeats once more, crossing the room so he’s kneeling in front of Sam, reaching one hand up to cup Sam’s face. “It wasn’t you.”

            “Yes, but—“ Sam begins, but Can surges up, tilts Sam’s face and silences him with a kiss. It starts deep, bruising, hungry in the way Cas has been for so long now, but he gentles it as time goes on, kisses Sam gently like he deserves, sucking his lower lip for a moment before finally pulling away.

            When he looks at Sam, he sees the slightly glazed expression he’s sorely missed over the last year and a half. To Sam, it must feel like no time at all, like the two of them had their last night together only days ago. It had been desperate and, despite their best efforts, somewhat tearful and, to Cas at least, so long ago.

            Sam releases his hands from their iron grip on each other and reaches to cup Cas’ face. “Tell me,” he says brokenly. “I didn’t…I never…god, Cas. Tell me I never forced you.”

            “No,” Cas says empathetically. “No, Sam. You never hurt me. You never hurt anyone like that. You were not a monster,” he says.

            Sam snorts. “Doesn’t sound like it, with all the stuff you guys think you have to hide from me,” he says. “God, Cas, how much of a monster _was_ I?”

            “ _Not_ a monster,” Cas insists. “Sam, even soulless, even without morals or many of the things that make you you, you _saved_ people, so many people, Sam. And you were soulless because your soul was in the cage, suffering because you sacrificed yourself for the world. You are the last person on earth I’d call a monster,” Cas concludes. He takes Sam’s free hand, the one not on Cas’ face, in his own and gently strokes his thumb over Sam’s knuckles, a slow, reassuring gesture that seems to bring Sam back to him.

            “I’ve missed you,” Cas murmurs once Sam seems to settle into his skin, the almost imperceptible fidget gone.

            “I know it hasn’t been that long for me,” Sam says, stroking his thumb along Cas’ cheek, “but…I’ve missed you too, Cas. So, so much. Will you come up here?” he asks.

            Cas doesn’t answer, doesn’t bother to take the time and instead just crawls onto the bed, pushing Sam back and straddling Sam’s lap. He doesn’t have much use left for personal space, not when there’s been so much between them for so long.

            Sam wraps his arms around Cas and pulls him closer, evidently as desperate to be close as Cas is. “You know,” he says quietly. “It…it sorta feels like no time has passed, like I…like I fell and then I woke up here right after. Because that’s all that’s in my head, you know? All I have is those two times, so it’d make sense for them to be back-to-back like that. But even then, I _know_ there’s something missing. Guess that’s everything behind the wall. I know there’s a big black space in my head, and I swear, I’m trying not to look. But I know it’s there, and it’s calling to me, Cas. Makes everything else…blurry around the edges. Like, if I don’t know what’s in there, how can I know this is real?”

            “This is real,” Cas immediately assures him, despite how useless his words sound. “ _I_ am real, Bobby and Dean and this house and this world, we’re all real,” Cas promises.

            Sam looks at Cas and nods slowly, and Cas can tell that Sam doesn’t really know whether he can believe him or not, is just agreeing for the sake of agreeing, whether to make Cas happy or because he doesn’t want to make waves or something else so typical of Sam.

            Cas is struck by inspiration. “Did it feel real?” Cas asks. “When we kissed, did that feel real?”

            Sam looks at Cas, looks him in the eye and nods slowly.

            Cas leans forward the last few inches to bring their mouths crashing back together. He digs his fingers into Sam’s shoulders, the light pressure meant to both drag Sam even closer and to ground him to the here and now.

            Sam for his part splays his hands wide over Cas’ back, not necessarily pushing him anywhere. Rather, he seems simply determined to just feel as much of Cas as he possibly can, and Cas is more than willing—eager, even—to oblige Sam.

            He breaks the kiss and helps Sam push the trench coat to the ground, allows Sam to pull at the knot of his tie while he himself starts on the buttons of his shirt, pulling it from his pants and throwing it to the floor atop the trench coat and the tie Sam removed.

            Once Sam has Cas’ torso bare, he can’t seem to stop touching it, first running his hands from Cas’ should blades to the base of his spine, around his sides and up his torso, pinching a nipple and twisting slightly, making Cas whimper and grind his hips against Sam. This was not what he intended for their night. He’d planned to hold Sam and kiss him gently and tell him how glad he is to have him back. He had planned to start slow once more, because it has been so long.

            But not to Sam. To Sam, it had been less than two days ago, less than two days since they’d last had sex after Sam had finally convinced Dean to sleep on what was assumed to be Sam’s last night on earth. It had been days, not more than a year, and now Sam is living with the feeling of _missing_ something, and he wants and needs his lover’s reassurance, and Cas is more than willing to give it to him.

            He moves his hands from Sam’s shoulders to Sam’s head, fingers laced in Sam’s hair to hold him still as Cas peppers kisses all along Sam’s face, along his forehead and nose and jaw and cheeks, across his lips and even, gently, over closed eyelids.

            “I’m here, Sam,” he murmurs even as he continues kissing Sam’s face. “I’m here.”

            “Cas,” Sam says, pushing his hips up, his hard cock, still trapped in his pants, rubbing against Cas’ ass. Cas groans and obliges Sam’s silent request for more, grinding down against Sam briefly before letting go of his head and climbing off of him.

            Sam makes a whining noise in the back of his throat, reaching out his hands for Cas, but Cas bats them away, instead undoing the button and fly on his pants and pushing them down, stepping out of them and kicking them into the pile of discarded clothing. He’s left in just his underwear, which Sam eagerly reaches out to pull down.

            Once he’s completely, naked, he takes Sam’s hand and pulls him off the bed. “You’re overdressed,” he observes, already pulling at the hem of Sam’s t-shirt. Sam eagerly helps him tug it over his head, throwing it on top of Cas’ clothes before starting on the button to his pants, pushing his jeans down along with his underwear, kicking them off and away from him. As soon as Sam is as naked as Cas, he grabs Cas and pulls him in, until their bodies are flush, overheated skin presses to overheated skin.

            Sam walks backwards to the bed, allows himself to fall back onto it and tugs Cas on top of him. Cas lets Sam pull him and then wiggles himself around so he’s straddling Sam once more, hands beside Sam’s head as he hovers over Sam.

            Sam grabs Cas’ head and pulls him down into a kiss, a deep, bruising kiss that feels like Sam wants to _consume_ Cas, like he wants nothing but the taste of Cas in him, around him, like he’s desperate to see and feel and taste nothing but Cas, to shut out everything else. Cas kisses back with equal intensity, determined to give Sam whatever he thinks he needs.

            Sam finally breaks the kiss, allowing his head to flop back onto the mattress. “Cas,” he says, lips swollen and voice rough. “Cas…”

            “Tell me,” Cas commands. “Tell me what you want, Sam.”

            “You,” Sam pleaded. “You, in me, nice and slow and _hard_ , Cas, I want to feel you in me, every inch, filling me, god, Cas…”

            “Your lube,” Cas interrupts, “where is it?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows they were a mistake, because of course Sam would have no idea where any of his own possessions are, considering they were packed and used by the soulless version of Sam, the one whose memories Sam will hopefully never see. So he hurriedly adds, “I’ll check your bag.”

            He climbs off of Sam, leaving Sam splayed out on the bed with lust-blown eyes and kiss-bruised lips, beautiful and waiting, and walks quickly over to the bag casually tossed in the corner. The soulless version of his lover was organized, and it doesn’t take Cas long to dig out a bottle of lube.

            He returns to the bed and drops it onto the blankets. “How do you want to be, Sam?” he asks.

            Sam doesn’t answer, just moves so his head is lying on the pillow. He bends his legs at the knee and opens them as wide as he possibly can, inviting Cas between them with a smile and one extended hand. Cas takes that hand, kisses each finger, every knuckle. He presses kisses along the lines of Sam’s palm and then finally drops the hand, crawling between Sam’s legs.

            “I want to taste you,” Cas says. “Get my tongue in you and make you wet for me, make you squirm and moan and ask me for more.”

            “Do it,” Sam pants, already squirming a bit just at the thought. “God, Cas, do it.”

            Cas obliges, lying down on his stomach and gripping Sam’s hips in strong hands, pulling Sam’s ass to the perfect angle for his questing tongue. He moves his hands to Sam’s ass, palming the flesh there before spreading him open as wide as possible, Cas drinking in the sight. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

            As far as Cas is aware, Sam hasn’t been with a man or had anyone play with his ass since the last time the two of them were together, soulless Sam preferring simple, quick, rough fucks with women. It’s been a year and a half, and Cas sets in, determined to make Sam wet and sloppy and loose and desperate for more before he goes further.

            Sam whimpers at the first broad stroke of Cas’ tongue across his hole. Cas pulls back. “Someday soon,” he promises, “I’ll take you somewhere where you can be loud. But tonight you need to be quiet, Sam. Bobby and Dean are just downstairs.”

            “Don’t talk about Bobby and Dean when we’re having sex,” Sam says somewhat sullenly, but Cas knows Sam understood him, so he sets back in, licking and sucking at Sam’s sensitive skin.

            Sam is practically arching off the bed, quiet whimpers spilling out through the lip he’s biting. Cas pushes his tongue inside of Sam and squeezes the globes of his ass, Sam’s whole body shaking with the effort to not yell out. Cas moans happily, tongue pressed to the soft, silky skin inside of Sam, mouth flooded with the taste of Sam, something he’s missed for so long.

            After what seems like no time at all, certainly not enough time in Cas’ mind, Sam reaches down and gently shoves at Cas’ head. Cas pulls back. “Need more,” Sam says breathlessly. “Need you in me, Cas, _need_ …”

_“_ Shhhhh,” Cas soothes. “I’ve got you, Sam.” He reaches for the bottle of lube and pops the cap open, spilling it over his fingers, dripping out too much in his haste, allowing some to spill on the bedspread, but he cannot really bring himself to care, not when Sam is lying below him, _trembling_ with want. He traces Sam’s spit-slick rim and pushes one lubed finger inside. Sam’s face crinkles with the intrusion for a second or two before relaxing into the lustful, blissful expression Cas has managed to draw forth.

            Cas gives Sam a second finger, and eventually a third, opening Sam for his cock and making him writhe on the bed, wordlessly begging Cas for more.

            Eventually, Cas obliges. He pulls his fingers out and slicks his cock, taking Sam’s narrow hips into his hands and holding him steady as he slowly pushes into Sam, not stopping until he’s balls deep, fully seated inside of Sam.

            “God,” Sam whispers, voice awed, “I’m so full, so full with you in me, Cas, feels so good…”

            Cas keeps still, allowing Sam’s body to adjust to being filled once more. Meanwhile, he releases Sam’s hips and reaches up to lace his fingers in Sam’s, squeezing slightly, making Sam smile and squeeze back.

            “Cas…” Sam begins, but he doesn’t say any more. He doesn’t have to; Cas knows what he wants and begins to thrust, pulling out almost all the way before pushing in once more, slow and hard and deep just like Sam had asked for. He repeats the motion, adjusting the angle subtly until Sam has to stifle a cry, cock spilling pre come when Cas manages to get his prostate.

            “Beautiful,” Cas murmurs, watching Sam’s stomach muscles twitch in pleasure as Cas continues to thrust into him, trailing his eyes up Sam’s chest, his throat, watching him bite his lip, and finally landing on Sam’s eyes, lidded with lust and firmly locked on Cas’ face in turn.

            Sam releases his lower lip from between his teeth and groans. “Cas…” he pleads once more, arching his back and pushing into Cas’ thrusts.

            “Do you feel me?” Cas asks quietly. “Feel me filling you, stretching you around me, feel me inside you?”

            “ _Yes_ ,” Sam whimpers, eyes slipping closed, leaving him with nothing but the feel of Cas in him, over him, tying him firmly to the here and now and real.

            “Good,” Cas says, voice low and gravelly now. “Feel me inside you, Sam, just feel me. I’ve got you.”

            Sam moans as quietly as he possibly can and moves his right leg, wrapping it around Cas’ hips to push Cas deeper, closer, and Cas obliges the silent request, picks up his speed, pounding into Sam with deep, hard thrusts, making Sam moan and leak pre come onto himself.

            “Cas,” Sam moans. “Cas, I’m close, _god_ , Cas—“

            Cas goes to release Sam’s hand so he can reach for his cock instead, but Sam refuses to let go. “No,” he says, “like this, I can—“

            And he does. He comes with just Cas’ cock pounding away inside of him, comes with a barely muffled shout. He squeezes around Cas’ cock, the tight, hot pressure too much for Cas and sending him over the edge as well, pumping his come into Sam, hips stuttering a few more times before he stills and collapses onto Sam.

            Their hands are still clasped together, but Sam releases his left hand and reaches up to softly stroke Cas’ hair with gently shaking fingers. “Thank you,” he whispers.

            Cas takes his now free hand and uses it to cup Sam’s face. “You’re thanking me now? I was under the impression that sex wasn’t something you thanked someone for.”

            Sam laughs quietly. “Well, I guess that depends, but that’s…not what I meant. Thank you for helping me and believing in me and, just…being here for me, Cas. It means a lot to me, and…”

            “Shhh,” says Cas, and he pushes up Sam’s body, bringing their mouths together in a kiss. “I love you, Sam,” he says after breaking the kiss. “And it’s my pleasure to be here for you.” He thinks about all the things going on, about the wall and the war in heaven and his dealings with Crowley and he wonders how long they really will have to be together, but he doesn’t say anything, because he does not want to upset the small smile on Sam’s face.

            Cas moves off of Sam, lying back onto the pillows and tugging Sam close to him. Sam squirms around until his head is on Cas’ chest, one arm slung over his stomach. Cas wraps his arm around Sam, fingers idly stroking through his hair.

            Cas grimaces at the feel of sweat and come drying on their skin and makes it vanish, leaving them clean and fresh.

            “God, that’s useful,” Sam mutters, squeezing Cas closer a bit. Cas nods in agreement and tilts his head to kiss Sam on the forehead.

            “Sleep,” he says softly. “You’ve been through a lot, Sam. You need rest.”

            Sam doesn’t argue, just closes his eyes and burrows further into Cas. “You know,” he says, voice sleepy, “I love you, too, Cas.”

            “I know,” Cas says quietly, and kisses Sam’s forehead once more, keeping his lips pressed there long after Sam has drifted into sleep.

            


End file.
